Futures - Wrong Turns
by Atheniandream
Summary: Re-Beta'd Sequel to 'Futures' Donna/Harvey Vignettes/Alternates set just after Season 3 Finale.


**Futures** - Wrong Turns

* * *

_***BETA'D***_

* * *

Notes: _Some of my usual readers seemed slightly perturbed by the idea of the First part. It was me exploring the potential of the dialogue in Season 3 Finale. Here is an alternative that I had originally decided would follow as the polar opposite side of Harvey Specter. A ~_

* * *

Sometimes we're not in control of our own future. Sometimes we let someone else drive down the road in the hope that they'll still reach the same destination.

But sometimes people take a wrong turn.

And you're still in the car…

* * *

He's not having a very good time at this benefit.

And he's pretty sure he's in love with two women.

One Brunette,

_And one Redhead. _

Equally, head over moronic heel in love with both of them.

The first is poignantly, and rather deliberately flirting with co-council by the bar, a guy who if he had a brain in his head, would know that the woman was very much taken. _Single or not. _

And the second,

_Oh, the second,_

The second woman in question...is very pissed at him right now. And lingering near his protege, who now also, seems very pissed at him.

_And rightfully so. _

He stood her up. A day after their 'talk'.

And all because of the first woman, who right now is looking so suggestively at co-council through a curtain of thick dark hair that it's making his groin ache and his teeth clench. _She knows exactly what she's doing. _

_She's done it before._

And he wants to go to said Redhead, and clear the air, make sure she isn't going anywhere.

But, he doesn't want to hurt a woman who's currently trying to rile him.

A woman who he hurt deeply.

And it would,_ hurt her…_

Any decision could hurt both of them.

So he does what he has so many times before:

**_Nothing._**

* * *

He's angry. And he's fed up. And ten years with two women parallel on either side of him have frayed at his nerve until it stands severed and raw.

But still, he's at one of their doors.

Because above it all, he can't lose _**her**_.

He just...can't.

In the end it came down to choosing. And until he'd met owner of said door he'd never even so much as hesitated. She had blindly appeared into his life ten years ago and then suddenly, almost flippantly, like a light had blinded him, any notion of another person had dissipated into the air quicker than sand into wind.

_Life's a bitch, like that. _

Staring up at the hard, cold concrete, he realises: **he misses her old apartment**.

Misses what it represented. _The old them._

The new one, with it's clean lines and sharp exterior is..._not who she used to be. Not part of who she still is today._

If anything it speaks more of _him_, than her. _And what does that say about her? About them?_

He realises then, that they've _both_ changed over the years.

He had to up the ante this time. He can't just wait outside her apartment until she shows anymore. That kind of shit doesn't work when you've been hung up to dry after throwing yourself in the water a first time.

He shuffles on the sidewalk, pressing the caller I.D

"Hello," says the familiar voice.

"Hey. It's me." He replies, the thick glueyness of his throat pushing at his confidence.

For a second there is nothing but silence. His gut squirms and frustrates him all the more.

"God dammit." She says under a long, arduous seeming breath. _A deliberate reaction to him, no doubt._

"Donna. _Let me in_." He demands, gentler than usual.

He hears her scoff on the other end. "No chance. Go home, Harvey." She barks back, like he's a dog lost outside his boundaries.

"Donna," He presses, leaning then against the door frame.

"What did I _just_ say?" She barks again.

Her stubbornness peaks his frustration to the end.

The words ream off of his lips in nines. "Donna; if you don't press that God damn button, I swear to god I'll-"

"DO what, Harvey?" She interrupts him, her voice upping a notch.

"If you don't let me in then…" He reigns in the need to punch the wall, grasping at straws. "I_'ll just wait for an old lady to need some help with the door_." He says smugly.

He hears her laugh slightly on the other end. "There aren't any old ladies in my apartment block, Harvey. You're shit out of luck." She says sharply.

He smiles at her adoption of the phrase, swallowing his words and takes a long deep breath. "I didn't..._Donna_. I need to see you. Let me in."

He waits for an immeasurable time. Too long, by traditional standards. He lets go of the breath he's holding when the door's lock disengages before his eyes.

_Finally, _he sighs.

She's waiting at the door when he gets to her apartment.

She's angry, her arms folded and her work clothes still on.

He treads carefully but confidently towards her, watching the fleeting expressions on her flushed face.

"Listen. Can I come in?" He asks, the ghost of their past encounters flitting through his mind's eye.

"No." She says curtly, almost seductively against the back of the door. "You have five minutes." She purrs.

He can tell in an instant, that he's already lost one of those minutes. Good thing he doesn't scare that easy. "Donna, I didn't sleep with Scottie." He says, and means it.

"You really expect me to believe that?" She scoffs, tilting her head at him.

"I...I needed to tell her,"

"Tell her what?" She bites, her patience hanging by a thread.

"I needed to tell her..._about us_." He says, the words losing a little confidence at the ends.

She looks even more pissed than he expected her to be. Considering it wasn't what she thought it was. He feels his brows knitting together.

"You really **don't think, **_do you_?" She fires at him, shaking her head in the process.

"What did I-" He scrambles, cut off by her words.

"**She's still in love with you**, Harvey." She shakes her head at him, her eyes widening at the inevitable strain.

It occurs to him that she still doesn't get it. _Even after their talk._

"Donna," He starts.

"And you love _her_..."

"Donna," He pauses, the strangeness of mediation knitting his thoughts together. "Yes, **I love her**. Part of me always will, okay?" He can see he's losing her by the tension setting in her face. "But I've only ever been** _in love_** with one person." He says, his body moving forward to keep her eyes on him. "You might of heard of her. She's a real pain in the ass."

The look on her face entertains him for a moment, a mixture of confusion and unease.

"Thing is, I didn't want her to find out on her own. Or see us, or come to the office and just know. I needed to tell her."

She sighs then, annoyed at the clear signs of losing her side of the argument.

"Did you hear the thing about 'I'm in love with you', or do you need me to say it again?" He asks, the intimacy finding the light in his eyes.

She smiles then, softens even. "I wasn't sure, I was too busy listening to your argument."

"Right." He nods, playing along, the hint of smile creeping into his features. "_I'm in love with you_." He says softly.

"Sorry, I can't hear you from over there,"

"I-Don't push it," He says, closing the gap as his fingers play with the edge of her lavender and ivory dress.

He watches her, that little smile that she hasn't used in so long, the shy unease in her body language at having her guard down in front of him.

He waits until he's flush against her, his lips gravitating towards her left ear, as he takes a pause just long enough to smell the intoxicating mix of her perfume and shampoo as they collide in a fresh sweetness.

"And I know you're in love with _**me**_, too," He whispers, before leaning back to look at her.

_And there's not a hint of arrogance in his words._

* * *

**_It's never going to happen_**, he realises.

Them.

It's just not… on the cards, so to speak.

She's always there. Always within arms reach and yet…

_She's a mile away from him. _

He realises that now: _the distance_. Like two opposing forces, they settle just close enough to tempt him and yet far enough away to stop him from ever matching the space inbetween.

_It's always been __**her**__ choice_. And that tears at his soul monthly, weekly and now daily.

_Just like his Mother..._

And for all the brashness, all the fighting and temper losing and not quite keeping the lid on he is still irrevocably held by her quiet refusal of years gone by.

He's sure that he figured it out long before she did.

That she's the reason nothing romantic ever works out in his life. Maybe even hers.

And he blames her, solely, for the refusal of such a thing.

He wants to leave her. He wants to rip away from her just to stop from feeling like the only eligible bachelor in the city who can't keep a girl for the one girl who doesn't want him.

"Harvey, I'm leaving now. You need anything?" Her voice interrupts him, as he glances up at her from his glass framed reverie, a flurry of pale blue silk and coppery hair looking down at him with large concentrated eyes.

"I'm hungry; fancy going to dinner?" He finds himself half-asking. He's not sure why, in the midst of his collective frustration at her why the words come out.

_He's a contradictory bastard when it comes to all things Donna Paulsen. _

She shuffles on the spot, as if at odds with herself. He watches her expression flatten. "I can't. I have a…._**date**_."

"Right." He exhales the word as it hits his chest, straightening him in his seat.

_Of course she has a date. It's friday night. Why wouldn't she?_

He swallows the need to frown, the urge to spit blood and just manages a tight and uneven smile. "Have a good...night." He nods.

"Good night, Harvey." She replies, backing away from him.

.

When his door knocks at 2am his first thought is for Mike, until the unwelcome wash of realisation points out that Mike's no longer with the firm floods his veins and he's even more annoyed at the prospect of it being his ex-protege just for the weight of missing him alone.

He stalks towards his door under the patchy light of the city looking up at him.

When he opens the door it all makes perfect sense.

_He often forgets that she knows what he's thinking._

She's just standing there, dewy and dangerous and...chewing the corner of her lip like a fourteen year old.

"Donna?" He squints, scrambling his blurry eyes into something manageable against the starkness of the lit corridor.

She shuffles, covered in black silk, the tantalising promise of an exposed back behind her. She looks strained, occupied by many things at once. No different from usual but somehow seeming more serious.

"Hey." She says, the vowels stretching out.

"What's going on?" He asks, pulling the door wide open.

"This… this isn't working anymore. With us," She gestures between them, her mouth forming a sharp line against the strained meaning of her words.

"No. It's not." He confirms, the words hitting like spilt milk.

"Why not?" She asks.

"I think you know why." He says quietly.

"Because you love me." She confirms, the words dull and detached in the wake of their release.

"And you..._don't feel the same way_." He adds, just as disconnected.

She nods in agreement, her brows sinking into a peak of quiet acceptance.

"I should...look for something else," She says, nodding again at her collected decision.

"Donna, I can't," He interrupts quickly, the words rushed and coarse.

"Okay, then you hire someone new." She offers, her voice detached, work-like.

"No." He says, the objection leading a panic to rise in his chest. "Not gonna happen."

"_**Then what do we do**_, Harvey?" She asks, her eyes wild and glassy against the frustration of their predicament. "We can't go on like this." She says, her shoulders slumping. "I can't go on like this."

"Donna, I-" The words fall out with a disjointedness, his hands attempting to blend the meaning before the words even reach his lips. He pauses, the weight of his answer charted in her tense features and waiting silence.

_I know you love me too, Donna. _

_I need you,_

_You know I'm in love with you, right?_

_Do you want me and Scottie to work out?_

_She's irreplaceable._

"I just...don't know, Donna." He says finally. "_**This time I'm not one with the problem**_."

* * *

She feels like milk and honey and liquid chocolate, and if she doesn't stop grinding against him he's gonna blow his load right there in the car and ruin his expensive suit before the day has even begun. It's been exactly ten years since anyone's even come close to making him feel like this and now he knows exactly why he's been plowing through women if it's just to get to _this_ again.

And it's been sat in his office, tempting him this entire time.

The thought is deafening to say the least.

He moans against her ear when her hand slides down his chest, playing with the buttons of his shirt. "Donna. We have company, you know." He says, looking towards the black screen that covers the drivers seat.

"Don't pretend like you care," She mumbles low into his ear.

"You're amazing." He breathes, his eyes sparkling up at her as she stretches against him.

"Why do you think I withheld it for so long?" She says, a playfulness in her words as she arches an eyebrow, pausing for a fraction of a second just to catch her breath. _Ever the multi-tasker..._

"Because you like the blue balls vibe?" He comments, looking up at her in that way that he knows would make him sick if he watched it on another guy.

"You get everything _far_ too easy these days," She says, sliding off of him as the car comes to a halt.

"The last ten years hasn't exactly been an easter egg hunt." He remarks, relaxing slightly, save for his still fervent arousal.

"I gave you everything else on a silver platter." She counters, adjusting her blouse just to glance at him.

"You'd look good on silver." He muses, his eyes sweeping up and down her curves.

Panic escapes him when he watches the car door open onto the busy street.

"Where are you going?" He asks, his voice is higher, more panicked at the mere action.

"Work?" She says, looking at him curiously. _It's gotta be the best poker face he's ever seen on her..._

"But you…you can't just leave me like this." He sputters.

"Yes I can." She grins. "We're late."

"I'm not going." He says, stubbornness and arousal colliding in his voice.

"You have a meeting in half an hour, Harvey…" She sighs.

"Then we'll be there in twenty. Tell Ray to go take a walk. **_A long one_**." He says, the prospect in his imagination lighting up his dark eyes.

* * *

He's been staring into amber liquid for an hour now. He wasn't sure why he'd decided to come out. The need of such, to not be in his usual space had ached at him with a longing.

_**Mike was gone. **_

Sure, he wasn't dead, or ill or in another country. But for all intents and purposes the kid had left him.

A kid who he'd grown very fond of over the last year.

Maybe it was the fact that he didn't have a girlfriend now, either. The promise of a night out and something a little different had blown into the wind with her leaving, also.

It had been a hard week. A week he hadn't enjoyed, having being so exposed and at the end of his nerve. It's too much for man like him, it seems...

For some reason he notices heels out of the corner of his eye, sparkling against the polished marble floor not too close to the edge of bar. When he turns his head, his right hand swirling his glass of whiskey around, he mentally kicks himself at the sheer sight of her, Valentino clad and dewy in the midnight bustle of the bar. She's dressed up and not for him and some of that notion makes his chest ache and his groin cash checks his fate can't pay.

He's not even sure how she found him.

But he doesn't even question it. _She's like a magnet to his soul, it seems._

He watches her very long, slightly silky legs draw closer to him as her heels click against the floor.

When she reaches his seated, hunched form, she's looking at him like he's hit rock bottom.

She shuffles into a seat next to him, oddly silent, as a bartender meets her on the other side.

"Two Macallan nineteens, on the rocks. Thankyou." She says, before looking expectantly towards him.

"I thought you said no one was leaving me." He asks dully.

When he bothers to look at her, she looks wounded. But for him, not at him.

"_I meant me_. And he's...not leaving you, Harvey. He's just...growing. We'll see him. We have to." She says, her voice following the direction of the bartender.

He looks up to see her face a little sadder than he'd expected to.

_It seems he wasn't the only one who grew attached to their little fuck up of an impulsive decision..._

"And Scottie?" He enquires.

"Harvey," She chides, her head tilting at his obtuseness. "You did all you could."

"Did I? I feel like I should have...told her sooner." He tries not to let the slight indignation creep into his tone. She did have something to do with his 'not' tell her, after all.

"She would always judge us for what we did." She says, the meaning vague.

"Us?" He says, the corners of his mouth lifting as he plays a look her way under the cover of his half full glass.

There's something in her eyes that makes him think she's going to say something about herself for a change. _He waits for the **rare comet of a moment...**_

"She said that you had changed too much, and that it happened whilst she was gone." She says, picking up her own glass.

**_That never really comes_.**

He laughs, bitter and red raw at the words. The idea of him changing too much seems a little alien. "Ironic. She wanted me to change in the first place, right?" He says, taking a large sip of his liquid emotion duller.

"I don't think she understood that she couldn't have you both ways...until it was too late."

"Both ways?"

She shrugs, either not wanting to tell him or too tired of the conversation. "You're good man, Harvey." She says for the second time this week.

"Only because of you, it seems." He says, staring into liquid once more as his other glass is discarded to the edge of the bar.

"What?" She frowns, stiffening.

"Well. You said that she'd noticed that I'd changed. Whilst she hadn't been here. So it must be something _you_ did."

"Harvey," She says his name like an empty threat.

"Why are you here, Donna?" He finds himself asking. Something in the way she looks is pushing him to.

"I knew that you would need an adequate drinking buddy tonight. And you know that I can drink you under the table, so." She smiles wryly at him under the cover of her own drink.

"What a crock of shit; that was one time!" He nearly chokes on his drunk, erupting in a fit of shocked laughter at her comment.

"Besides, _I_ miss Mike too." She adds quietly.

It's a rare moment to just watch her being open for a change. And it sparks something in him.

"But not Scottie?" He says. He doesn't know why he's digging the knife in with regards to her. Something about unsaid things and their last talk occupying his brain still.

She let's it pass, too. Like she does. "I'm really sad that it didn't work out for you, Harvey."

"Sometimes love just..._isn't enough_." He says, sighing as he places his glass down onto the hard worn wood of the bar to watch her straighten at his words. "So, you thought you'd dress up to come see me?"

"A date. Investment Banker." She answers reluctantly.

"Really? Thinking of jumping ship too?" He asks, the sharp edges finding his question as he holds the full weight of scrutiny back.

"I like to keep my options open." She jokes, allowing it to fall flat between them.

"You're just doing away with the rule completely now, right?" The moment the impulse strikes he knows it's probably a bad decision.

"No." She snaps, looking sharply at him.

"And yet..._Stephen_," He plays, retreating slightly, but still watching her intently.

"Harvey… believe it or not," She pauses, mid sentence, before thinking more of it and filling her mouth with the contents of her own liquid courage.

"What?"

"Nothing." She shrugs, taking another sip and trying to look unwavered by his sudden overwhelming scrutiny.

"No Donna. Stop doing that." He says; his words dark and ambiguous.

"Doing what?" She retaliates, glaring at him.

"Stop withholding what you're thinking." He presses, holding her eyes for a moment too long, until she then retreats.

"Last time I told you, you got angry with me. Remember?" She says, rather roughly.

"Well, we're not at work right now. So...spill."

"Okay. Believe it or not you were the… _only boss I ever slept with_."

"Really?" He laughs dryly. "You expect me to believe that?"

"What can say." She shrugs. "It was a blip."

"There are so many things to say to that..." He chides.

"Drink your drink." She orders, pointing at him with a sneak of smile that she's trying to hide on her face.

"Do you regret it?" When the words roll off of his tongue he feels the weight of each one in threefold.

She weighs up the question; he can see it in her slight squint of thought. "Some days." She answers.

"Why?" He asks, the question solid and unwaveable.

"I think of how we might have been had we..._**not**_."

"I'd still have dragged you here with me." He says, picking up his glass.

"Really?" She replies, a smile falling out and onto her face.

"Always." He says, the words heavy and solid. His gut squirms when she looks away from him, as if distracted by the other people at the bar.

"Do you regret it?" She says, still occupied by the world around her.

"No. I regret..._other things_." he says.

It hits her like a punch. Only then does he realise what he he's just said. "Harvey," She whispers, an almost-dismal at his words.

_He wants to kiss her._ The need to do so is scratching at his fingers and pulling at his gut like she's the antidote to every bad thing he's ever felt in his life._ If he could lose himself in her for just five minutes he might just make it through the next week._ He looks down at her dress, how it flows over her shoulder and hips and breasts and tries to recall the distinct marks of her that he'd committed to memory from their fleeting moment so long ago.

_He can't remember a damned thing..._

"I should go." The words catch his attention once again, as he looks back up at her, shutting down the impulse.

"Donna…" He protests weakly.

"You've had a...bad week." She says, nodding at the thought process in her head as she begins to stand.

"Donna, don't." He protests again, stronger this time.

"Harvey. I have to go." She says, no, pleads, her eyes wider than he's ever seen before.

He feels a frustration at her leaving, but something different from before. Something disappointment led and not anger driven. It's new for him.

_Her walking away, isn't._

* * *

**_He doesn't know the secret_**

**_Here is the best part_**

**_This is going to take me_**

**_Right back to the start_**

**_If I can keep it_**

**_If it set in mind_**

**_Wait until it sets_**

_**Come try it a second time** - 'Spank' By The Naked and Famous_

* * *

_And sometimes the outcome of many futures converge into the same hail mary pass._

Like a splitting gap between variables. A comet worth of action. A second worth of opportunity to take the wheel again.

* * *

His heart is beating ten to the dozen, and the frustration of her leaving has broken him out in a sweat of complete clarity.

She opens the door to him still dressed the same as before. No sweaters or cute little two-pieces. He obviously wasn't that far behind.

"Harvey, what are you-" She starts.

"I'm in love with you. I always have been and I know it didn't just fall out of the god damned sky, Donna. You keep making out like I'm the only one here, but I'm not. You're in it too. So don't pretend like you're not."

"Harvey-" He watches as she struggles for words, her eyes large and her posture straighter and taller than its been all evening. "I...this is _**not**_ the time," She starts.

"Like hell it isn't." He says, pushing past her.

He's had enough now. This dance or battle, whatever it is between them. He's sick to death of it. Of trying to ask her questions she's never going to broach. He ends up in her lounge, the memory of his last time there now looking a little different, with it's cleaner, neater lines and sharp artistry.

"Harvey. You should go home." She says, her voice measured and unnaturally even for a command.

"I'm not going anywhere. **_Look_**…" He pauses and rubs his hands over his face in tiredness.

She's hanging him out to dry right now, and it has nothing to do with Mike or even with Scottie. It has to do with them. And her. And him. And their ten year worth of a lie about a night that still has a presence in his mind.

"No, you look. You can't just come here and-" She pauses. Stops herself this time.

She's out of words again. And he doesn't know why. She's never lacking in a comment or an answer.

"And what? Get to the bottom of what's really going on? Because you keep telling me it's me, that I'm the one who needs to open up and fight for what I love. Well you know what, **_it's you._** And I'm done with the bullshit."

Somehow in his tirade, they're toe to toe. And she's never looked so scared. So small. So...un-Donna-like.

He realises it's nice to look at her without the sense of superhero about her. Something inately male about the thought.

"Harvey, listen to me." She says, a look of arrogance and slight patronisation on her tired face. "I'm am not-"

But he's done with her nonsense rationalities. The words that he knows she isn't going to say anytime soon.

So he kisses her.

It's the only card he has left. At first she pulls back slightly, mumbling his name until his hands glue themselves gently but firmly around her hips and pull her a touch forward, his lips claiming hers, soft and sure as any kiss he's ever given.

_And god has it been an age since he's even so much as touched her. _

He tilts his head, his mouth encouraging hers open so that he can kiss her fuller, more insistently. And she doesn't refuse. Doesn't slap him or chide him for taking such a chance. If anything she warms into him, sinking down a little, one hand ghosting his cheek, as if the other is her conscience and she's letting a whim take the other for a ride. He feels the tension drive in his gut, the feeling of her mouth, hot and whiskey laden against his, her lips soft and moulded to his, the feel of her hips and the promise of the great ass she has just inches away from his fingertips.

She pulls back for a second, her breath thready, and eyes searching his.

"Bedroom?" She asks, a guardedness in her asking.

"Bedroom." He nods, following her.

But it's just too much to have her walk in front of him and not be able to touch her, so her reaches out to grab her waist, stopping her just long enough to grind against her, placing a line of kisses down her throat so long that she gasps against him, before turning slightly to claim her mouth in his once more.

She feels like fire and warmth and being 30 all over again as they blind step towards her bedroom door, her leading as she undoes every single one of the buttons on his shirt, her fingers trailing up his chest and past his nipples until she pushes him gently over the threshold.

The door slams with the purpose.

_And he's never felt so alive..._

_._

Saturday morning creeps in with a gradualness. A promise of the day to come. His eyes open slowly, against the undrawn curtains - they had been occupied - with now hang almost useless against either side of the large window. He sits up against the slightly lumpy mattress to the smell of coffee and vanilla. His heart skips in the memory of where he ended up last night, and looks to his left.

She's not there. Typical. Any notion of gazing at a naked redhead is dashed in one fail swoop.

Until she appears at the door frame, two cups in her hand, and looking at him like he's screwed up his paperwork again. The smell of work floods into the room.

"Morning." He says, still squinting at the sharp light coming through her bedroom.

"Hey. Coffee?" She asks.

"Always." He says, sitting up, as she pads over to him, silk dressing gown clad and perches on the edge of the bed, handing him a hot cup. It's strong and black and just how he takes it. He's distracted by the silk that slips against her thigh, showing just enough of her legs to make his already insistent groin ache.

"What?" She accuses, glaring at him over her coffee cup.

"Nothing," He shrugs; a smile creeping into his features. "Nice legs." he grins then, having shown his hand.

"Harvey," She chides, her face serious in a flash.

"You have great legs." He shrugs, unaffected by the admission.

"I know." She says, a smile of her own appearing, until something clicks in her head and she's serious again.

"What is it?" He says, putting his cup down on a side table.

"We...we can't do this." The words fall out with an irony.

"What? Drink coffee?" He frowns.

"I don't want to date my Boss, Harvey."

He immediately sighs. _He should have known_.

It all made sense now. Why she hadn't objected.

She had been…giving him a little something to remember her by.

Its sick and twisted and thoughtful and selfless and completely Donna. _He actually wants to kick her._

"Right." He says, a sad smile on his chiselled face.

"I'm sorry. I uh… it's just… it's not going to work. We work together. _**Really**_, work together."

"Then you're fired." He says, a ghost of old words coming to the fore.

"Harvey. That's not funny." She remarks, looking pointedly at him.

"And neither's this." He says matter-of-factly.

"Harvey," She places her cup down then, the feeling of the need not to have liquids at her disposal. "Nothing's changed. But we can't… it just wouldn't work...right now. Do you get what I'm trying to say."

He gets it. In some fucked up kind of a way he understands what she means. He wants to fire her and then impregnate her as soon as he can and he doesn't really understand that just impulse yet, but he does...understand. In principle.

"Is that why you never say it back? Because it's not the right time?"

"Maybe." She says, looking thoughtful.

He sighs then, the inevitable slump of doubt at her answer.

"Harvey," She says, gaining his attention. "I do though. Okay? I do."

"So what do we do?"

"We carry on." She says.

"Let me guess...never discussing it ever again?" He supposes, wincing at the inevitable answer.

"No. We just..._carry on_." She says with a smile that could break him if she pushed it enough. "Now; drink your coffee." She orders, grinning as she shoves his coffee towards his hands.

He smirks, taking a long sip before asking. "Don't I at least get breakfast?"

"Of course you do. But you're buying." She eyes him pointedly.

Something tells him, far down in his gut, that everythings going to work out at some point.

And now at least...she knows he's in it for the long haul.

No matter what they have to battle along the way,

Their futures are set against one another,

_In some form._

* * *

_Couldn't help doing a 'Donna' Version. They're one and the same in my book (After the Season Finale) A ~_


End file.
